Enjoyable, this cooler time of year,
Though not with Winter at the present time.
How Summer never stayed, no heat to fear —
So unpredictable. (Not so this rime.)
The problem one has with a riming verse
(Or rhyming if you choose, it matters not),
Is some predict the ending. Throw in Terce —
(Approximates the time I penned this jot.)
So there it is! Now lines must have an end,
But some may linger longer than the season
I mentioned at the start. (No thoughts transcend,
And if they do, for no apparent reason.)
Was thinking (What’s the point?) when Summer fled.
Her final words? Find winter-rimes instead.